


Apocalypse

by KiaMianara



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Character Death, Disturbing, Fratricide, Gen, Horror, Insanity, Patricide, not explicite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 16:34:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1148238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaMianara/pseuds/KiaMianara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere along the line the world he had known had turned into a nightmare. Even if it doesn't always look the part, Dick knows and is doing what he can to keep it together, but it's not enough and he can't go on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apocalypse

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT  
> This is a random, undefined apocalyptic AU based on a horrible nightmare I had and I will absolutely NOT write any pre- or sequels or anything. It was creepy enough the first time around. I needed a whole day to get over it and I believe I did an adequate job capturing the essence, so don’t read if you’re not into that kind of thing or are alone in a dark house or such. You’ve been warned.
> 
> At this point I usually I say “enjoy”, but given the nature of the story ...

* * *

 

He can’t do his job anymore.

 

The nights are the worst since it started; he can’t remember when. The days are safe, mostly, not really, not real; people moving, living, breathing, but shifted, changed.

 

Not real, illusions. The prophets had known, but no one listened. No more signs reading “the end is nigh”. They were past that point for who knows how long already, so why keep warning?

 

The nights are worse, so much worse. No more pretending, no illusions, blood everywhere and fire and the city, the world, is falling apart, crumbling, bit by bit.

 

He can’t do his job, Batman’s job, anymore. Bruce had entrusted him with Gotham and now it is lost to ...

 

Blood, more blood, rivers in the streets, his doing, Batman’s doing, the only thing he _can_ do. Damage control: kill the worst, hope to prevent escalation, fail, because everything is lost already to ... he doesn’t know. It is his fault, has to be, he fails at his job, but there is also an external factor, a cause. Which? He doesn’t know.

 

He can’t handle it, never could.

 

He tries to keep Damian out of it, also fails, always fails, but now they are safe, Bruce and Damian and Alfred, too. He had saved them, the only way he still knew how to.

 

During the day things look normal, shifted, illusion, Gotham long since lost.

 

He can’t do Batman’s job, can’t handle it anymore.

 

He had called Jason and Tim, asked them to come. They will arrive tonight, but the afternoon is already lost to darkness, not safe.

 

Blood on the streets; it makes no difference anymore, another life lost. Waiting. Despite the darkness the train station is calm, groups, waiting, as does he. Train station, city centre, epicentre. He should have known, shouldn’t have called them.

 

Stay calm, wait for Jason and Tim, will be here any moment, can’t be long. He’s a wreck, they will see, knew already beforehand, but maybe ... will they understand? His fault, all his fault, but ...

 

Something, an explosion? Fire, everywhere, panicking masses, but Jason and Tim, where are they? Which gate, where?

 

Running, screaming their names, one of many screaming names, most just plain scream or forever silent already, but different; they are different, it doesn’t matter, only his voice is real, only he gets real answers.

 

Ever shifting masses, rivers of blood, familiar now. Is that a dragon or another explosion?

 

There! Finally, real, their arms around him and each other and his around them and everything stops.

 

.

.

.

 

Tiniest moment of peace, as if everything can one day be alright again, but it won’t.

 

Leave, they have to get away; safety, another illusion, needed. Pushing and pulling, never with the masses, vertical to them, always in contact, never letting go.

 

He can’t do his job, but he _can_ hold on.

 

They rest, somewhere, not home, because home doesn’t exist anymore and never will again.

 

They look him over and each other, he does the same. They look older than the number of their years, so does he. Wreck, worn down, tired, all of them. A surface, flat, soft, a mattress? Not really. Junk yard, a mess, not as bad as the city, doesn’t matter, and still their arms around him, holding, holding on, but asking, asking about everything.

 

What happened? Where is everyone?

 

He breaks down; tells everything, all he knows, not much, except that its bad, so bad its off the scale. Gotham will never recover from this, _he_ can’t recover from this.

 

He can’t do his job anymore, hadn’t been able to for the longest time, but he had held on, had been able to do it, for Bruce and Damian and Alfred, too. He had done it, they are safe now, would forever be safe. It had been the easiest and the hardest job he had ever done, but he can’t do it anymore. He can’t do his job anymore.

 

Pressure, real arms not leaving but tightening around him. Fear of more pain, can’t take it anymore, should have called them sooner, shouldn’t have called them at all ...

 

He can’t do his job anymore.

 

Real hands and real smiles, understanding. Jason and Tim understood, better than he, hold on, onto him, onto each other.

 

Tears, his, theirs, it doesn’t matter.

 

“It’s alright, Dick. That’s what you have us for.”

 

“You did right. Rest now, brother. We will handle it.”

 

He sighs, relieved, sinks into arms, real arms. Not failure, done well, raging mind slowing down, coming to rest for the first time in what seemed forever. He never wakes again.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Aside from my first dive into this fandom and the horror genre this is also an experiment in regards to writing style. Sentence structure, lack of gramma and such are on purpose to reflect the instability of the world and Dick’s mind. Also, I usually write in past tense, so I would be grateful if you could point out the mistakes to me.
> 
> Disclaimer: not mine and not making any money with ist. I just borrowed the characters.


End file.
